


Flicker

by Steadfxst



Category: The Hellfire Club - Jake Tapper
Genre: Cigarettes, M/M, Pre-Slash, Smoking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steadfxst/pseuds/Steadfxst
Summary: How the cigarette sceneshouldhave gone.





	Flicker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navree/gifts), [retweet_this](https://archiveofourown.org/users/retweet_this/gifts).



> I dedicate this fic to my two friends who made me read a 327 page book in two days, which I will be forever grateful. Here is the rewrite to a scene we all thought needed a little more sexual tension...

He thumbs the strike wheel a third time, and still the flame doesn’t take.

“Damn it,” Davis says around the cigarette in his mouth.

“Here,” Charlie says. “Allow me.”

LaMontagne raises a brow. This, he was not expecting. 

The young Congressman walks over, pulls his stolen Jerry lighter out of his jacket pocket, and thumbs the wheel. It bursts to life. Charlie leans over and LaMontagne leans forward. Davis’ eyes flick upward, and Charlie pulls his hand away, pocketing it.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t mention it.”

He holds the cigarette between his fingers.

“Can I see that lighter for a moment?”

Charlie looks confused, but he reaches into his pocket once more, fumbling a bit. He holds it out to him in his fist. Rather than offer his palm to Charlie, LaMontagne gently turns Charlie’s hand over and unfurls his finger. Charlie inhales sharply, softly.

“What’s the matter?” Davis asks, pretending to examine the lighter, which looked no different from any other old silver lighter.

“N-nothing.”

LaMontagne takes a drag. He looks up. Charlie is blushing.

“Didn’t sound like nothing. Am I making you nervous?”

“No.”

Charlie frowns in petulant way that makes LaMontagne want to take him over his knee and give him something to pout about. Imagine that girl of his walking in and seeing Charlie with his pants down, bare ass over his knee, turning red under his firm strikes.

Davis crosses his ankle over his knee.

“Good,” Davis says. “Never admit when you’re scared around here. Sharks love blood.”

“Are you a shark, LaMontagne?”

He smiles, blinks.

“You tell me, dear.”

Charlie’s eyes widen. He liked keeping the Congressman on his toes. He enjoyed keeping him guessing. He puffs at his cigarette a few times.

“Well?” he prompts.

“I think you think you’re a shark,” Charlie says.

Davis laughs. Well, the man had spunk. He’d give him that.

“You’re alright, you know that?”

Charlie shakes his head. Perhaps he was unsure—or unwilling—to agree for fear that LaMontagne meant something else. Charlie was already getting hip to Washington double-speak. It was about time.

“You want a drag?” he asks, holding his cigarette.

“Ummm…”

“Good Christ.” LaMontagne stands, takes Charlie’s right hand in his, and puts the cigarette filter into his hand. “Go on. You look like you need to take the edge off.”

Charlie swallows.

“Maybe I do…”

He takes a slow puff, and the cloud of smoke mingles in the air between them. Charlie sighs.

“Feel better?” LaMontagne asks.

“A little. Could use a drink, too.”

Davis grins, cupping a hand against the side of Charlie’s cheek.

“That’s a good answer. Let me go get us some proper libations.”

Charlie’s cheeks flame. Oh, this was just going to be _too_ fun!

“Don’t go anywhere!” Davis says from Charlie’s doorway. “I’ll be right back.”

 _And then the real fun can begin,_ LaMontagne thinks.


End file.
